


When You Break

by NommeDeGuerre



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt Fill, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6642304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NommeDeGuerre/pseuds/NommeDeGuerre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following his capture on Jakku and subsequent interrogation at the hands of the First Order, Poe can't get Kylo Ren's voice out of his head. He can't sleep, wakes up screaming from nightmares he can't even remember. As Poe fights to keep his mind clear, Kylo Ren realises he can still reach the Resistance's treasured pilot, can still torment him even with galaxies between them. Irritated at first by his error, Ren soon realises this may present an opportunity for the recovery of a valuable lost asset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to warn: This fic will involve psychological torture throughout and some mentions of canon-typical physical violence.

**When You Break**

_'You’re pushing down on my shoulders_  
_And emptying my lungs_  
_And in a moment I’m older,_  
_In a moment, you’ve won.'_

\---

For Poe Dameron, it starts in dust and ends in darkness.

\---

Poe wakes violently. He is upright in bed before his consciousness can catch up – a half scream caught in his throat, which feels tight, dry, restricted. His chest heaves with the effort to _just breathe_ ; he can hear his heart thudding in his ears; sweat clings to every inch of his skin.

His fingers clutch the rough blankets. He becomes aware of the room slowly, details filtering as they are picked out in white with soft moonlight. The hum of heating pipes and hazy sounds from the forest calm the raging of his heart.

Poe can’t remember what the dream was about.

He knows he must have been dreaming, that it must have been terrifying to propel him back so violently.

No, he can’t remember. There are no fragments, nothing that he can reach for.

But he can guess.

Perhaps it was naïve to imagine he would walk away from his closest interaction with the First Order so far without feeling any consequences.

Sure, there were physical injuries. Poe’s still got cuts on his face, still got bruises fading from punches and kicks. His body hasn’t felt quite the same since that crash land on Jakku. But, hey, can’t stay young forever, right? It’s understandable he’s not healing as quickly as he once might.

Except it’s not the physical injuries that Poe is worried about. Not in the darkness of the night like this, when he needs to be honest at least with himself.

The pain. Oh, the pain. Poe can feel the echoes of it even now, rushing down every blood vessel, every nerve. Burning cold and white hot all at once. He’s never felt anything close to it. Never known fear like he did when he realised just a fragment of what that monster was capable of inflicting. His heart rate increases again. Poe forces himself to close his eyes and count slowly to ten.

He’s not a monster; he’s a man. To think of him as anything else gives the nightmare power. He’s a man. There’s still weaknesses there, still a human soul lurking underneath that mask and the swathes of black fabric.

Poe brings his knees slowly up to his chest, resting his damp forehead against them. Wrapping his arms around his legs, he listens and enjoys the comfort of knowing that he is home. Far from the dusty, endless sand dunes on Jakku. Worlds away from the monotone grey of the First Order. He is safe. He is in his room and he can hear the tiny noises a lived in space makes at night when most movement stills, even if only for a few hours. At least his stupid night terrors haven’t disturbed anyone else.

He must go back to sleep himself, needs to rest like never before. There’s no knowing when the next mission will come, no surety when he will be able to return to the peace and solitude of his own space. Poe forces his body to stretch back out, to pull the covers up to his chest and close his eyes.

It was just a dream – it’s not as though it can come back, can harm him. Silly to be scared of his own mind.

\---

Kylo Ren hadn’t planned for this.

He awakens in the darkness of his private quarters in the Starkiller Base.

It isn’t a slow, pleasurable return to consciousness. He is just alert, aware all at once that his eyes are open and his senses burning.

He waits, wondering whether he has been summoned, whether someone hovers hesitantly outside his door. He cannot feel any panic, confusion – there is nothing to suggest anything is _wrong_.

And yet, he is unsettled. He feels almost an itch, worrying at his mind. Was he dreaming?

He thinks, forcing focus through his otherwise unmoving body. Where was he before his mind raced back here? Tracing his subconscious proves frustrating, the memories unhelpful and elusive. They slip through his fingers like water, mocking his clumsy attempts to identify their content.

There is something… He concentrates and hears it. Just an echo. So faint it could easily be missed. He listens again, hears it in greater detail now – all the pain and frustration. It’s a tortured scream, the sound of a man suffering indescribable agony.

It takes Kylo some minutes to place it. He’s heard the dying screams of many men. It’s surprising one has lingered to reach this level of prominence.

He knows whose voice it is. The rage from that day still simmers under his skin. The _pilot_. The rebel rescued by a traitor from the First Order’s army, a cuckoo in the nest. The sheer audacity even now threatens to send him into another murderous swell of anger.

He wasn’t finished with that man- with- Kylo hesitates, searching for a name. Dameron. Commander Poe Dameron. He wasn’t finished by a long shot. Recovering the droid was just the beginning, to remedy his earlier failure and prove to his Master he could succeed.

Dameron was a trusted, high ranking member of the Resistance. Their so called ‘best pilot’. His lips twist into a sneer even now. Kylo skirted through his mind, understanding there was much Dameron could tell them. He didn’t have the luxury of time to make a full exploration, just needed the _map_. And he got it. Ruthlessly crushed Dameron’s futile attempts to keep him away. The man had clearly received training to help withstand physical torture, but no one could prepare you for the invasion of your memories, a violation of your very being.

His screams had been pleasing.

Kylo settles back, a shudder in the Force still disturbs him. He closes his eyes and clears his mind, focusing on that fractional tug.

The sensation is peculiar, almost like falling through a tunnel. When Kylo’s eyes reopen he is no longer on board the First Order’s horrific weapon. He is in a tiny room, filling fraction by fraction with dawn light. He feels clumsy, displaced, and confused.

Then he looks down. Stretched out on the bed, limbs loose and relaxed is the pilot. Dameron’s chest rises methodically, but every so often he frowns in his sleep. Then his head twists with greater frequency, as though shaking to dislodge something on his face. Inaudible words fall from his lips. Kylo takes a step towards to the bed. The man’s movements increase, sweat beginning to build up on the tanned skin of his forehead. Kylo comes closer again, fascinated and unable to control himself.

It’s obvious Dameron is panicking. Trapped in his sleep, he begins to toss and turn fitfully. His arms are tangled in the covers and his breathing turns to gasps. Kylo is so near, just about able to reach out a gloved hand to Dameron’s neck. His fingers close around the fragile bones and muscles, feeling a pulse racing out of control.

He squeezes gently, increasing the pressure and then- Dameron’s brown eyes snap open. The terror is unlike anything Kylo expected to witness from this proud man. He is so vulnerable and for a moment Kylo is certain Dameron can see him – they seem to stare into each other’s eyes.

Then Dameron turns away and Kylo is flung back to reality with tremendous force. He jerks upright for the second time that night, appreciating the lingering memory of Dameron’s neck so ready and soft.

He’ll be the first to admit he doesn’t understand what’s happened.

He certainly didn’t plan for this.

But it seems he’s found an opportunity to recover a lost asset and pursuing that lead could prove a rewarding side project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Prompt that inspired this Fill:
> 
> Ever since Kylo invaded his mind, Poe can't get Kylo's voice out of his head. He keeps hearing Kylo's voice inside his head, he can't sleep at night and when he manages to sleep he wakes up screaming from a nightmare that he doesn't even remember the details of. He tries desperately not to let his trauma show to others and spends most of his time boarding on his X-wing because flying space is the only thing that can blur Kylo's voice.
> 
> When Kylo and Poe meet again, maybe during a battle or maybe Poe is recaptured, Kylo instantly notices how Poe's mind became so weak and vulnerable and takes advantage of it. This time he whispers inside Poe's mind "I can remove your pain, undo your suffering...Just do as I ask."
> 
> Lyrics at the start of the chapter from Never Gonna Change by Broods.


	2. Chapter Two

_'Troubled spirits on my chest,_   
_Where they laid to rest.'_

\---

The connection to Dameron’s mind is not as strong as Kylo hoped.

They are star systems apart. Frankly, he is surprised anything survives at all. It takes days (or rather nights) of experimentation for him to start understanding the boundaries. When Dameron is conscious, on his guard, he doesn’t stand a chance. What he could take so easily when the man was less than a metre from him is hidden, unattainable. The quiver in the Force feels more like the crunch of static through a useless transmitter.

When Dameron sleeps, however, the rules change.

Kylo quickly realises Dameron is his own worst enemy; his weakness is pitiful. The pilot lingers on the memory of torture, finds himself consumed by thoughts of failure over providing the information Ren wanted. These first few instances, he all but _invites_ Kylo in.

However, despite this hospitable welcome, manipulating a mind from this distance turns out to be more complex than Kylo anticipated. He is used to imposing his will upon someone, literally breaking them apart with a combination of intense pain and brute force. He envisages crushing their skin in a vice sometimes, squeezing until they realise failure is the only possible outcome. Aside from his Master… he’s not come across anyone who could keep him out.

Well, maybe that’s not quite true-

Not tonight, he tells himself. He can’t afford to waste time on worthless memories.

In his waking hours, the demands on Kylo are endless, requiring all his focus and concentration. The moments he can devote to the pilot are few and precious if they are to be effective. If he attacks Dameron’s memories too strongly, the man’s mind almost senses the assault. It wakes him and Kylo is once more left in the dark, unable to reconnect.

Now he must learn to be gentle. This is no longer about seizing intelligence – it is a subtle form of torture. He needs to _understand_ the rebel fighter, find the chinks in his armour that can be exploited. Kylo Ren is planning for a long game, attempting to quell his impatience and channel the words of advice his Master has given him so many times. His short temper, his anger – they are weaknesses if he cannot combine strength with strategy.

Dameron could be useful to the First Order… But first Kylo needs to know – how far does his influence go?

\---

Poe is tired.

He is exhausted. He can’t remember being this worn out in his life – and that includes some pretty rough days.

He sits on his bed on top of the covers. The sky is pitch black outside, but the lights in Poe’s room are bright white. He can’t face it. Can’t bear the thought of slipping into the sheets.

When was the last time he slept the whole night without waking?

Poe doesn’t really need to ask that question. He knows the answer.

Before Jakku.

Poe is not a stupid man, nor is he foolish enough to deny his humanity. Both are faults that could cost his life when flying. Or worse, the lives of his friends. Poe knows that the mind has ways of dealing with traumatic events. He knows that dreams are a natural way to work through conflicting emotions, to process bad memories that consciously wouldn’t be dwelt on. Poe knows there are people on their base he could talk to – trained to listen, willing to support him.

He can’t explain what’s stopping him from seeking help.

It’s not pride. Poe has many failings; blind arrogance is not one of them.

Exhaustion weighs on him, he feels his eyelids lower and there is no strength left to fight. He surrenders and waits.

\---

_His fingers are tightly wrapped around the controls of his X Wing. Lights flare on the panels in front of him, reassure him all is well – all systems are running. In his ear, Poe can hear BB-8’s chattering bleeps. He is in the air and nothing, nothing gives him more peace or elation than this. Racing through empty space, glancing out of the cockpit window and knowing he is among the stars._

_Then the voices start. He pauses – these words sound familiar. Has he heard them before? He can’t have – they’re on a new mission? He listens and it’s all tactical, all reassurances –_

_“Red 2 – are you in place?_

_“Affirmative. All set and ready.”_

_Red 4. Black 3. Black 7. Red Leader. Black Leader- “Black Leader, do you copy?”_

_Poe’s tongue is thick in his mouth; he doesn’t understand why. “Copy. I’m right with you.”_

_The images flash, morphing curiously before his gaze. Jets of light breaking out across his vision. The cries of alarm pierce his ears – attack – ambush – outnumbered – no reinforcements._

_This is no single battle Poe remembers. It’s pieces, fragments. A tilt of the wings here, a curling loop there, a TIE fighter blasted into smithereens._

_Then it starts._

_The desperation. The courage. The screams._

_“I’ve got one on me and I can’t shake him!”_

_“I think I’m hit- my shields-”_

_“Stay where you are. You can’t help me now.”_

_“I’ve lost a rear engine- Just let me distract them and buy you time.”_

_The faces. Poe remembers every single one. Every man and woman that he has had the honour to fly with who never made it home. He tries to recall their names – holds their individual habits and quirks close for as long as he can. They pass before his eyes – dark hair, blue eyes, handsome features, sweaty streaked foreheads – all of them consumed by flames in agony before his eyes._

_In chronological order, like some dreadful holovid he can’t stop. Even when he presses his shaking palms against his brow, Poe can’t escape the terror and the desperation. Face after face after face after mother after brother after uncle after lover. All gone. All lost._

_He could never put words to the grief this ignites in his soul, the unbearable sadness pooling into the marrow of his bones._

_Perhaps he could lay these ghosts to rest, perhaps he could find a bizarre reassurance or comfort in knowing that they each live on in his memory. He might, if it was not for the voice in his head. It’s a voice like no other he’s heard before – deep, smooth, slow. He hears it very rarely, but when it comes it’s accompanied by the sensation of hands either side of his forehead. They press with formidable strength against his ears and temples, holding it in position. Poe knows that they are there to stop him looking away._

_In the end, it isn’t the loss of so many respected colleagues, so many friends that really starts to slip under Poe’s skin._

_It’s those hands that press just so when the voice whispers ‘A moving display, Commander. Shall we watch it again? All those people you couldn’t save – one by one from the very beginning?’_

_Poe wants to say no, wants to demand release. But he’s out of control of his own mind and as the macabre play of faces starts again, Poe wishes for nothing more than to curl into the darkness and be left to his own silent contemplation._

\---

Poe wakes with his cheeks wet. He tells himself it’s sweat. He knows that’s not true.

He can’t remember what affected him so badly – he can never remember the images, but the emotions are unshakeable. Deep, deep grief bleeds into an ever deepening weariness.

He is supposed to be recovering from his capture, crash, and escape from Jakku.

Poe can’t remember a time he felt worse.

It’s still manageable, though. It’s still just a case of nightmares out of control. He stirs himself, dresses, eats breakfast, and jokes with his team mates. Increasing normality helps and he starts to feel warm again, as though he has emerged from the shadow to bask quietly in long lost sunlight.

He thinks it’s still manageable until he watches his hands tremble by the side of his X Wing.

Poe was going to climb in to start maintenance and repairs, get himself and his starfighter back into some sort of working order.

The fear is like nothing he’s ever felt before. He is inexplicably paralysed, stopped short wondering, ‘What if this time, it’s me that doesn’t come home?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such a lovely response to the first chapter! <3
> 
> Lyrics at the start of the chapter from Your Bones by Of Monsters And Men.


	3. Chapter Three

_'There's no hope for the weary,_  
_If you let them win without a fight.'_

\---

Events around Kylo Ren race until he begins to worry he may not remain in control.

They hunt the pilot's droid, following its clumsy journey across the universe with even clumsier companions.

Kylo is listening to a First Order officer babble a progress update when his fists suddenly tighten. He can't be sure, but there's a stirring of an old, familiar sensation through the Force. It's like a signal that only he can read.

That man- that hateful, gutless disappointment has surfaced from whatever forsaken, rotten corner of the universe he'd been skulking in. Rage threatens to build. Kylo Ren quashes his emotions ruthlessly, forcing his hands to relax. There will be time to absorb that anger later, to turn it into productive energy, to use it to build his power.

Perhaps it’s the first sign of what is coming – the challenge he's known faces him since he made his choice between the light and the dark.

In the passing hours, entire planets – millennia of history – are destroyed in seconds. Kylo feeds on the fear, on the dominance of the First Order, almost floats on the sea of pain this wanton annihilation sends like a tidal wave through the Force. It's as though for a few moments, the fabric that makes up the universe is bleeding, ripped apart by one of its own creations.

Then Takodana – that sweltering forest, the hunt, the _girl_.

Briefly, perhaps only for a few seconds, Kylo acknowledges his connection with the pilot's mind is growing stronger, more defined. He cannot afford the luxury of distractions, but this could be a worthwhile investment. He's learnt enough about the- the bond, if you will. It is likely Dameron is in close proximity, almost certain he is one of the pathetic Resistance fighters come to the aid of their worthless allies.

Ren reaches out, traces the links back through the Force to Dameron. The wall of resistance he strikes is unexpected, sends him recoiling in shock. Dameron's fully conscious, his mind absorbed in the exhilaration of flight. In his most comfortable element, Dameron is confident in his skill and strength. Kylo finds his naivety nauseating; his lack of foresight – of the greater enemies and powers at work in the universe – makes him mundane, dull, uninteresting.

The girl on the other hand, she's interesting.

Still. Kylo Ren prides himself on brutal efficiency. He broke this man's mind before, leaving a scar and slightly easier route of entry. Poe's thoughts burn bright gold in his vision and with calculated precision, Kylo smothers them in shadow – each like a tendril seeking out the weaknesses and fractures in his defences. They are not close enough for Kylo to cause true pain, to distract him from the controls of his X Wing, or to influence his actions.

It'll help though – the darkness will linger with Dameron day and night, eating away at his strength.

Kylo is certain they will stand face to face against each other again one day.

Dameron's fate is equally as certain.

There will be no contest between them.

\---

Poe finds himself in the med bay again, sat beside Finn, beside his _friend_ , praying to deities he doesn't know by name or even believe in for him to wake up.

Rey is gone.

General Organa is in mourning though she tries to hide it.

And Poe, Poe feels like it's dark even when he stands in the midday sun.

Shades and black masses flicker at the edge of his vision, skittering away coquettishly if he tries to focus on them.

The dreams. They're on the point of crippling him. He cannot sleep for more than a couple of hours without waking with a hand covering his mouth to smother the screams.

Poe can be dramatic when it suits him, enjoys open displays of emotion. Usually he prefers for those to be positive though. He likes to hug his friends, clap people on the back when they've done a good job, smile with a grin as wide as the horizon when things are going well.

He's not being dramatic with his description of how he feels at this moment… But Poe doesn't know where to turn- doesn't know who could help him now that each of his most trusted friends have gone to places he cannot follow.

Exhaustion creeps up on him again, the rhythmic beeping of Finn's monitors reminds him of BB-8's sleepy bleeps. They soothe him as he teeters on the edge of unconsciousness in the alluringly warm and dark med bay, leading him with the best intentions back into the hands of the monsters that hunt him.

He remains upright on his stool by Finn even as his eyelids slip shut.

\---

_Time loses its meaning, but he is suddenly startled by a different noise from the monitors._

_Angry, constant, loud – the steady pulse marking Finn's heartbeat is gone, replaced by a flat blue line. Red alerts flash up on the flat screens, various organs in his friend's body are highlighted and the word FAILING plasters itself across his vision._

_Behind him, Poe can hear the clatter of medical staff. They shout in alarm; it sounds like an entire multitude are rushing to the bed._

_Poe knows the doctors, the nurses are there, but he can only see them in his peripheral vision._

_He stares uncomprehendingly at the lifeless body in the intensive care unit, knowing with a certainty he cannot explain that Finn is gone._

_Despair, guilt, sadness he never knew he was capable of feeling again crash over him._

_A doctor finally shoves Poe's shoulders, sending the clear message he needs to get out of the way._

_One more push and Poe_ -

\---

Poe jerks to a standing position, his legs clumsily catching on the lower bars of his stool.

It crashes to the floor as he reaches out for some support.

Poe's chest is heaving, he sucks in oxygen and attempts to clear his mind of the shock and fog of sleep.

He was dreaming. Losing Finn. Just a dream.

The pilot turns to the signals confirming Finn's continued steady state. A cold sheen of sweat covers Poe's brow and he feels suddenly sick. He's had this dream before. Every time he comes to see Finn, it's as though his mind knows its own weaknesses and presents Poe with these terrible visions.

It's getting to him because Poe hesitates outside the door to the med bay now, wondering whether he has the courage to go in. He owes it to Finn, owes it to his friend's utter, stupid bravery to keep a vigil at his bedside, to try and let him know somehow that there are people who care, who will wait for him to come back when he's ready.

Poe doesn't want to be a coward. He’s not used to the fact there are days he can't face his own reflection in the mirror.

The man shakes his head, feeling the fear recede. Watching the rise and fall of Finn's chest is reassuring, gradually encourages Poe's thoughts back to positivity and the reality of the rebel base around him.

Poe shakes his head. It wouldn't do if Finn came round now and saw him cowering like this. He needs to pull it together. Shrugging his shoulders, Poe straightens upright. His chin almost juts in defiance. "Hey buddy, I'll be back later alright?" Finn predictably doesn't keep up his end of the conversation. "Don’t go anywhere." Waggling his eyebrows, Poe fixes his friend with a cheesy grin (that goes right the way to his eyes) and heads back to his room. Splash of cold water on his face, maybe some fresh clothes and food, he’ll be feeling right as rain in no time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for any kudos/bookmarks/comments. I know this is a slow burn and the updates are quite short, so thank you also for sticking with me!
> 
> Lyrics at the start of the chapter from No Rest For The Wicked by Lykke Li.


	4. Chapter Four

_'When you break, it's too late for you to fall apart_  
_And the blame that you claim is all your own fault.'_

\---

Kylo's consciousness is drifting.

He was dimly aware of snow, of pain, of the scent of smoke and blood. He remembers exhaustion, agony, the traitor and that _girl_ again.

She beat him. Kylo remembers losing his fight and it makes him afraid to face the waking world.

What will his Master say? He is a liability now. Not strong enough. Not quick enough. A more promising pupil within reach.

But hasn't he done enough to strengthen his connection to the dark side? His father- Kylo's mind falters and a strange sensation takes over. He can name it, but he doesn't want to. Acknowledging it would be to admit he feels something as dangerous as doubt over his actions. He did the right thing. Solo was a distraction, trying to lure him back to weakness.

His father is gone.

Kylo killed him. _Murdered_ him when he was defenceless.

What would his mother say?

Ren's thoughts drift in hazy circles, round and round the same fears, the same questions. It is perhaps no wonder they seek an escape, that the weak chain leading him back to that Resistance pilot suddenly serves a new purpose.

He needs an outlet. His body is healing slowly; Kylo can feel it becomes healthier every day. But his mind, his mind is starved for energy and full of conflict. This leaves him too unstable, too open to further errors. He is ashamed of his own fallibility.

Tormenting the pilot proves almost too easy. The man loves with the devotion of a pet and it sickens Kylo. Memories of Dameron crowded by friends, admired and adored surface as he rifles through the moments he most treasures. This isn't a mark of pride on Dameron's behalf – he takes comfort not from the renown, not from the titles bestowed, or trust invested. Dameron takes comfort from the warmth of being wanted, of knowing he fights alongside men and women he regards as the strongest and wisest in the galaxy.

The pilot lost his mother at a young age. Kylo briefly glances at images of a funeral, of last conversations together without much concern. Dredging that up would be too easy, too clichéd.

But Poe, it appears, is attempting to fill that parental gap.

He stops short as he watches his mother personally recruit this loud, brash man. She chastises and flatters with that firmness, the quirk of her lips that made it so difficult to know whether she was genuinely angry or about to burst into a smile. Dameron obviously was aware of Leia Organa's legendary status, knew that his parents fought side by side with all three – Organa, Solo, and Skywalker.

Respect, admiration, devotion – Kylo watches it all explode from the pilot's chest like huge floral blooms. He hates that this man has the audacity to seek his mother's approval, to seek her trust. He hates it even more that she seems willing to bestow these favours upon him. Image after image and their mutual professional relationship develops into something softer, more like affection.

Kylo Ren has no doubt Dameron would sacrifice himself in an instant to save his beloved General. What really fuels his fury though is his mother's betrayal. Kylo became an expert at reading his mother's gaze – her eyes one of the only places she couldn't keep her true feelings from. They soften when she sees Poe, she approves of his strength, his energy, his utter devotion to the cause she has already given so much for.

Leia Organa might be pressed to admit it out loud, but Dameron has become in her mind – whether consciously or not – something of a proxy for the son she has lost.

Rage inside Kylo normally burns hot, like the centre of a volcano or the core of a planet. It is a fraction of the overwhelming power the dark side of the Force can offer, a white fury that he often expends through destruction. When he thinks of Dameron now, however, it is like a shard of ice settles in his soul. Each time he remembers the love his mother has given away to this talentless traitor, the frozen blade cuts deeper.

If Dameron is such an angel, what must she think of her little Ben now? He is certain that she could never forgive him, that slaughtering Solo must have pushed him past the point of redemption. He is banking on her entire disavowal of him. One by one, he is finally removing those connections that hold him back from giving himself to the dark completely.

Unexpectedly, Kylo receives an answer to his raging questions.

Still not fully in control of his mind, he realises Dameron is experiencing some of his pain and confusion. There must be points when the pilot feels overwhelmed by the emotions that do not belong to him. The answer comes back all the same; the man responds with compassion, with reassurance. He truly believes that no man can be beyond redemption if he feels remorse for his actions.

Kylo Ren decides it's time to make this man understand his stupidity.

They start with the destruction of the Hosnian System.

\---

_'And I have seen all that you've seen._  
_And I have been where you've been._  
_No, our hands will never be clean.'_

\---

_Poe stands among a crowd on the surface of an unfamiliar planet. Each man, woman, every member of every race represented appears to be dressed formally, presenting themselves to warrant respect. It must be an important place, but Poe cannot remember if he's visited before._

_Dimly he realises something is not right. The people around him are clutching at one another, some have hands pressed over their mouths or their eyes tight shut in panic. The ones brave enough to look are all staring upwards, gazing in horror at the sky._

_Poe looks up as well. The sky is blood red, raging flames slowly corrode the pale blue and choke the clouds. Something is burning the atmosphere of this planet one layer at a time. It is getting so hot. Instantly his skin is drenched in sweat; he glances down at his hands to see them covered in ash and grimy soot. Terror takes root in his stomach._

_On the surface across from the balcony trapping the crowd, trees shudder and burst into flames. One by one, they literally disintegrate. The ground beneath their feet is shaking, huge fissures erupt as the pressure builds. Buildings begin to collapse and the piercing cacophony of screams is endless._

_I_ _t's so, so hot now – it must be like the inside of a furnace. Red gives way to white and Poe is sure his skin must be blistering. Sobs morph into cries of pain; fabric catches light and the group literally melts into a nightmarish combination of flame and limbs. There is an endless, raging roar deafening him and Poe can do nothing more than helplessly collapse to the floor._

_The heat- Oh, the heat- He won't survive for much longer now. The pain is indescribable. He closes his eyes, praying the end will be mercifully quick. The light pierces through his eye lids – whiter than the burning of a sun and Poe-_

_\---_

He cannot help the cry that falls from his mouth as he wakes. The sensation of burning, of his skin melting and the smell- it lingers and pulls at his mind. Poe doesn't want to return to that horror, doesn't want to go back to sleep- but he's so tired and the pull of the dark is just too strong.

_\---_

_It’s different now. Poe is perhaps on some sort of space station or maybe a Star Destroyer. He stares out of a huge window into a sea of darkness. Planets, certain large ships glint back. They are standing sentinel in the midst of a system he doesn't immediately recognise._

_Poe is still trying to work out where he is when the red beam first explodes from another location on the ship. It is huge, like a grossly engorged laser blast from a weapon. Its range is short at first, but gradually it elongates. Poe imagines it ripping apart the surface below then extending far out into the universe._

_The beam separates, each extension locking on to the bigger objects in the system. It is then Poe begins to feel it. A terrible weight settles on his soul, a certainty that thousands – if not millions of people – are about to die and he himself is complicit in murder. He waits and one by one the cries erupt. He can feel the terrible, mortal fear of so many innocents; they are burning and pleading for help._

_Poe could have helped them if he'd wanted – could have chosen a different path to avoid this fate. He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by the grief of a power much bigger than him for the wholly unnatural deed that has taken place. He is sobbing, not from sadness at the wastage of such promise, of so much life. Poe is sobbing because he feels nothing, no remorse and no guilt._

_There is only an emptiness, a gaping cavity in this soul plugged with a calm reassurance. This destruction is necessary, a step towards a greater goal. Poe cries because he does not understand how a man could not be brought to compassion even when millions beg for mercy._

_Somebody is kneeling opposite him. Through bleary eyes, Poe is aware only of blackness. A form is almost discernible, robed in shadow. Two hands, clothed in black leather reach for his own. They are drawn up by the stranger and in this awful red light, they seem covered in blood._

_The figure remains crouched, barely moving even as Poe feels his shoulders shuddering. Bowed together in the violent mockery of a sunset, a deep voice asks him in a tone laced with contempt, "Tell me, Commander, do you still think this can be forgiven?"_

_Outside one of the planets shatters into fragments, the force of the explosion ripples and causes even this massive spaceship to shudder. Where only moments ago screams reverberated through his head, now there is only silence. Poe gazes up at the stranger with haunted dark eyes and remains mute._

_\---_

Poe does not remember the dream changing, but he knows instinctively that he no longer dreams of burning skies. Instead he wakes with phantom pains in his stomach and an all-consuming sensation of betrayal.

_The perspective switches every time._

_Some nights Poe is the man being stabbed. He sees Kylo Ren through the eyes of Han Solo, gazes down in abject horror at the red blade goring him._

_Nothing ever prepares Poe for the pain. Although he knows they've been through this moment- the last forsaken minutes in the existence of the Starkiller base- Although he knows what to expect every time he walks out onto the bridge, a desperate hope in the power of love, the only force strong enough to give him the courage, keeps him going._

_It's not just love for his lost son. It's love for Leia. It's the desire just once in his life not to be remembered as a coward or the man who chanced survival by playing with the odds. For once, Han Solo chooses to face the responsibilities that come with a family._

_It's ironic this is the day his luck runs out._

_Poe isn't sure, but even as he collapses to his knees, every time Kylo Ren whispers those last words to his father, he feels the man exposes something of his own soul he wanted to keep secret. Does he really think Poe can't see the conflict- that his father couldn't feel that terrible war raging inside his child? The pain the man who was once the boy Ben Solo emits is almost tragic._

_Poe doesn't understand how anyone could fail to feel some compassion. It tears him apart as Ben tears into the body of his father; the blade of his lightsabre slices through body tissue as though it was paper. Kylo Ren wishes to make himself an abomination ("I am a patricide!" hisses a voice desperately, "you should loathe me."), to cut himself off from all that was once steady and familiar in his life. Poe sees a man in shadow, alone in his rage and sinking deeper and deeper into the dark._

_The conflict carries with Poe into the waking world, but he can never keep hold of the moments they share on the bridge, the time they spend together exploring Ren's memories of this deed and weighing what it means for redemption._

_A body tumbles into the abyss and Poe is falling, falling further than he imagined would ever be possible. The air rushes past his ears, but he can hear a deep voice, heavy with mourning it will not acknowledge, "Tell me, do you still think this can be forgiven?"_

Poe crashes abruptly back into his bedroom before he can answer. _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both sets of lyrics in this chapter are from When You Break by Bear's Den, which (as you may have guessed) was the inspiration for the title of this fic. =)


	5. Chapter Five

_'Needle and the thread, got to get you out of my head;_  
_Needle and the thread, gonna wind up dead.'_

_\---_

Poe's hands start shaking. He notices once in the mess hall, joking with a friend while he holds a cup of some sort of warming tea. The vessel trembles so badly the hot liquid splashes out onto the table.

In the rowdy, cheerful atmosphere, no one notices. Using his sleeve to soak up the liquid, Poe erases the evidence of his weakness.

The pilot is embarrassed – it's an emotion Poe doesn't often face in his daily life. He makes it a point not to dwell on shame, to embrace mistakes where possible, and accept failure with a good nature. A desire to learn, to improve always burns brightly within him. You can't move forwards if you spend half your life with a foot in the past.

It happens again when he is carrying out some repairs with BB-8. There is no one around to see how the wrench slips from his fingers, slick with sweat from an unseen terror that swept through his body.

This is the moment Poe decides he cannot abide being a victim any longer.

He is still the best damn pilot in the Resistance. He hasn't progressed this far through life, fought so hard to honour the memory of his parents to stumble now. Taking a walk to a more secluded area of the base, the man begins to pace the ground. He runs a nervous hand through his dark hair every so often, desperately trying to work out what he can do to combat this exhaustion.

Poe knows he is having near constant nightmares, but he can never remember clearly what he's been dreaming about. They must touch close to reality though because sometimes he just catches an edge of panic when he's not sure what’s a false memory and what's actually happening.

It's this blurring that frightens him most. He’s at risk of becoming a liability.

He questions determinedly. Have there been days when he has slept through the night? What is it that's making these dreams so vivid? Is it still the remnants of psychological stress he experienced as a result of his capture by the First Order? If it is, Poe can't help but criticise himself for what feels like a disproportionate reaction. He suffered a beating, the excruciating invasion of his memories, but Kylo Ren didn't exactly draw the process out. The man took what he wanted and left. Poe was the one to go and make it difficult by attempting to fight back.

The fact of the matter is this: Poe needs to move forwards. He is at risk of alienating himself from his friends, from the people he's come to love as family. If it's a type of recovery, he'll fight for it. And he can start by filling his daytime hours with as much positivity as possible. Dwelling on dark memories will be no use now. He's wallowed and moped by Finn's beside; he's stared plaintively at the stars waiting for Rey's return; gazed mournfully at the light burning into the early hours of the night in General Organa's room.

Joy is missing from Poe's life. And there's always one thing that is guaranteed to put a smile on his face.

Flying.

Poe needs to get off the ground and spend time out among the stars, barely missing the tips of towering trees as he skims the surface of a planet just degrees away from recklessness. He longs for freedom. When he flies, that's all he can concentrate on: the mission, the spacecraft, BB-8's chattering in his ear.

So Poe flies. He flies and he flies.

\---

"What's going on, Pava? I feel all out of the loop. We had newbies turn up nobody told me about?"

Jessika shoves him. Playfully. He thinks. It's difficult to tell; she's fixing him with a long, hard stare.

"That'll happen when you spend your time mooning at your not-boyfriend's bedside."

"Hey- No. Finn's a friend. He risked his life for me- he didn't even know me-"

"Easy, tiger. I was just messing with you. I get it. You care. We all do. He's a good guy. You want back into the training plans or not? We could use you right now."

Poe takes in her dark hair and the proud line of her spine, straight in the face of so much danger and uncertainty. "Course I do. I never meant-" he hesitates, words stuck and realises he still cannot explain the shadows that haunt his sleepless nights. "We're wasting time. You gotta get me up to speed; introduce me. What's going on with Blue Squadron?" He pauses, face paling, "We were pretty depleted after the Starkiller Base."

Jessika acts in the way only an old friend can, reading just perfectly when Poe wants to be pushed and when they both want to chase grief from the new lines appearing around their eyes and lips. "Come on, Dameron. You gotta lot of grafting to do. Feels like I've been repairing fighters every bloody hour I'm awake. I go to sleep dreaming about engines and hyperdrives."

Poe can't explain what he'd give just now to dream about nothing more than mechanical repairs, flight plans, and shift rotas.

Yes, Poe flies and flies. He tells himself that he's flying to face his problems, not fleeing from them.

Of course, you can only find a cure for an illness when you diagnose it right. It doesn't occur to Poe that maybe he is not the one currently in control of his destiny.

He flies and he fights valiantly on, unaware that he fights in vain.

His dreams continue to disturb his rest, his hands to tremble, and the darkness to encroach ever closer to him, inch by imperceptible inch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the lovely and encouraging kudos/comments. Just a short update today - but hopefully more to come over the weekend. =)
> 
> Lyrics at the start of the chapter from Stitches by Shawn Mendes.


	6. Chapter Six

_'Well, I grew up fast; I guess I grew up mean._  
_There's a thousand things inside my head I wish I ain't seen._  
_And now I just wandered through a real bad dream,_  
_Feelin' like I'm coming apart at the seams.'_

\---

It frustrates Kylo how Snoke discovers his little pet project in the end.

Training wasn't going well. Mentally he's never been so exhausted. He spends hours immersed in a power so dark he can feel it now always- the echo of it throbs through his veins. His body strengthens, his abilities sharpen, but he knows he lacks the clear-headed focus Snoke is seeking from him.

Part of that is out of his hands right now. It's part of the reason for all this preparation.

Kylo's no fool. He might have killed his father, slaughtered that particular pull back to weakness, but there are other temptations out there. Greater challenges of his will and dedication to be faced. He prefers not to think of them too specifically at the moment.

He broods in the darkness, but he just cannot concentrate. Thoughts filter through his head, distracting him even despite the quiet. Kylo doesn't even mean to start thinking about the Resistance's pathetic pilot. However, it occurs to him that breaking and taming Dameron's subconscious thoughts has been more difficult of late.

It's not because he's been discovered. Kylo is sure he would know if their link severed completely. No. Dameron lingers less on the darker, sadder moments of his life. He appears to have shaken off some of the stupor Kylo worked so hard to pull over his mind, wrapping it up in musty, depressing fog. It's frustrating. Kylo is used to essentially taking what he wants and having to push harder now seems somehow… unfair.

_"You are distracted. You have much still to learn if you think your disquiet is hidden from me."_

_"Master-"_

_"Silence. You dare to keep secrets from me, even now?"_

Kylo shudders, does not resist. Power unlike anything he has ever felt brushes against his mind. It weighs on him like tonnes and tonnes of rock, pressing him down until he breaks into a cold sweat. He tries to show his devotion, obedience – offers his memories of the pilot up freely. I wanted it to be a gift, he explains without words, to show you I am trying to master my self-control, my patience.

_"You debasing yourself with that snivelling. I do not need your explanations; you cannot hide the truth from me. You did not seek approval for this. That man holds no value of worth for us, for the First Order."_

Tiny flames of anger flicker to life inside Kylo, resenting the dismissal of his efforts. The man quashes them ruthlessly, seeking to channel the burn into a steady rage that offers him so much power. He will not react like a child; he needs this control if he is ever to face Skywalker again. Snoke must be aware of Kylo's struggle for self-possession, but he says nothing. Kylo takes that for approval. It is not chastisement, after all.

_"If you sought to demonstrate to me tactical awareness, subtlety, you have failed. The dreams? It is all superficial. The pilot is unstable now, yes, but what more have your efforts achieved? You have spent too much time rooting around in the weeds of his mind. The greater picture escapes you."_

Ren knows his confusion must be palpable. Wasn't the whole point of the dreams the greater picture? To be the slow wearing away, winning control of a member of the Resistance with significant access to its leaders, its tactics, its plans?

_"You are blinded. The Force works through the Commander."_

_"He is not sensitive-"_

_"He does not need to be. He is an agent of its will. The light side burns through his soul. Did you not wonder why you were drawn back to his mind again and again? The light has been calling to you through him."_

The information staggers Kylo – how could he have made such a wild miscalculation?

_"Shall I show you how Commander Dameron's mind appears to me?"_

It's a hypothetical question. The next moment, Kylo is scrambling back without any semblance of grace. He shuffles crab-like on his feet and one lone hand, long limbs all bent as he covers his eyes desperately. A light – so white, so unblemished – illuminates his entire sad, sorry cell. For a moment, all he can see are flashes as his pupils attempt to adjust to the intrusion. Slowly the light diminishes until a small, gently pulsating ball remains hovering brightly in the middle of the room.

Kylo stares now, telling himself he cannot feel an influx of alien emotions – courage, cheerfulness, audacity, a constant belief in the justness of a righteous cause.

_"You understand the implications of your error?"_

_"Yes. I understand."_

_"He is another liability, a chain to your past that must be severed. The Commander may die as a result of his suicidal dedication to the remnants of the Resistance. If he survives, however, you will bring him here. He can still be of use to you. You think you have shown him torment? I will show you how to cause him such pain; he will beg for death before we allow that merciful darkness to claim him."_

Kylo shudders with a dark pleasure he is frightened to put a name to. A blackness inside him yearns now to crush and burn this man, to watch him writhe helplessly, to drain his life force and feed his own power. In front of him, as the Supreme Leader speaks, the ball of light starts to develop thin, fragile fractures. The black lines crisscross, joining up and becoming deeper fissures. The light quivers as though fighting against compression until without warning into explodes into thousands of tiny fragments, shattering like glass.

Tiny particles float to the floor, slowly melting to pick out highlights of Poe's form. In his head, Kylo can hear his screams, hear him pleading. It is one path for the future. He looks again. Poe's shape is more defined now; he can see the slim man's vulnerable figure stripped of its pilot's gear and thick protective jacket. Dameron lies lifeless; his skin is pale as chalk. A thin trickle of blood dribbles from the corner of his mouth, his ear, and even the tear ducts in his eyes. On the floor by his head, his black, bright curls are matted with the same dark substance.

Kylo gazes at the man, processing the knowledge a warrant has effectively been issued for his termination.

Should he feel a sense of triumph? Is this what he wanted when he realized there was a weakness he could exploit? The image of the pilot’s body begins to fade into the blackness of his bare room and with it some of Ren's sadistic urges ease. Kylo tells himself he couldn't care less about Dameron's fate. The man is yet another thorn in his side and – not only that – it's a thorn Kylo has driven into his own skin, which is even more infuriating.

There is certainly no small twinge of disappointment buried deep in his tormented and fractured soul.

No part of him that believes a tiny light will disappear from the universe if Dameron's life force is so cruelly extinguished. He knows that inflicting suffering, mastering how to administer pain in such a sophisticated manner will be an elating experience.

Kylo Ren does not think of Poe's soft love and acceptance for the entire world around him, his compassion when Ren showed him some of his worst deeds, or his freely given smile that illuminates even a dream world.

It is all weakness, in the end.

But later, when Kylo finally slips into an uneasy sleep, it is his turn to dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics at the start of the chapter from Old Number Seven by The Devil Makes Three.
> 
> Nearly there now!


	7. Chapter Seven

_'Covering the walls in shadow,_   
_Faster than the sound of speed._   
_Never seen no devil,_   
_Now it’s all that I can see.'_

\---

_A gale, more powerful than any storm Poe has ever experienced, whips around him furiously. The gusts of air are so strong they almost seem to strike him about the face. His eyes water and he shivers violently in the cold. At first, Poe thinks he is deaf, but gradually he realises that is not the case. The roar of the wind is so loud in his ears that it drowns out all other sound. The effect is peculiar; he feels isolated and weak._

_He knows he should move, that he needs shelter. Turning his head feels like it takes so much effort. He might as well be trying to wade through tar or a sucking, mud-ridden swamp. He does manage to look down and is surprised to find his hands gripping onto pale silver railings. The railings are about a metre apart – two sides of a bridge. It is as though this understanding unlocks another piece of the puzzle._

_Poe sees his surroundings more clearly. He is standing on a bridge over a chasm so deep the sides simply slip away into an abyss. The boards beneath his feet are a dull grey metal; the bars prevent an unwary traveller from taking an unfortunate fall. Given the risk, however, these flimsy railings hardly seem an adequate barrier._

_He frowns._

_Then becomes aware that his face is wet. It isn't just a windstorm – not like the raging gusts of dry air that can roll for days across the open sands of Jakku. Poe glances upwards to the sky. Clouds literally roil across the heavens. Thick, heavy – they are shades of the same sullen grey as the boards beneath his feet. Gunmetal, he might have called it. Although the days when weapons were built with such materials are long, long gone._

_Gluttonous drops cascade downwards, whipped into a frenzy. The water lashes at his face, settles in his eyelashes and blurs Poe's vision. He feels lost. Exposed to a force he does not have the protection to weather. The noise is so, so loud. Poe knows he is sinking. His knees might as well be made of fabric for all the support they offer._

_Coldness deeper than any he has felt before drives into his bones. He is freezing from the inside out._

_And he is still so alone._

\---

Not long returned to the new Resistance base, Rey is grateful for the opportunity to slip into the quiet of a small, cosy bedroom. It is almost luxurious compared to some of the conditions she's trained through in the past weeks. The covers might as well be made from silk.

Unable to pause even long enough to change into some bed clothes, Rey is drifting to sleep before her mind catches up.

It is perfect.

Until she is, all at once, wide awake.

There is nothing more than an unwavering certainty that something is _wrong_.

Rey pauses, tries to clear her mind of any instinctive panic. A nauseating sensation rolls through her again and this time, she knows what it is. A disturbance in the Force. Not a good kind either. There is darkness pulsating through this entire building, evil that has no place among the members of the Resistance.

She scrambles off the bed, not even pausing to pull her shoes on.

The floor of the base is cold against her feet. The sickness rushes through her again; a sharp chill causes her to shiver. Stumbling for a moment, Rey realises these waves are moving like ripples. They are circling out from a centre. She needs to focus, to find the source of this terrible sensation.

Not even fully conscious of the direction she is taking, Rey reaches out for the comforting presence of Luke Skywalker. _"Master, can you feel it?"_

_"I can,"_ he replies without delay, although she knows he is not as close. Last she saw, he was deep in conversation with General Organa in another building, _“Keep going. I'll be with you soon."_

\---

_Poe grips the railings until his knuckles turn white. His fingers are frozen and his nose and eyes stream constantly. The endlessly screaming gusts make him want to hunker down, curl into a ball and hide away. Dimly he becomes aware of another sound, barely audible above the wind. He isn'T sure, but it sounds as though someone is calling his name._

_With a ferocious intensity, Poe forces himself to concentrate. He hears it again, clearer now. There is someone there. The man pulls himself upright and gradually becomes aware of a wider world around him. He stands on a bridge – the only safe path across a vast cavern. Briefly he thinks he recognises the place, but the sensation of familiarity passes quickly._

_He realises with a gut-wrenching twist of fear that the bridge is shaking. It vibrates with the force of the storm. Glancing in the direction he heard the shouts, Poe realises that one of the connections holding the bridge in place is damaged. Debris lines the path up to the bridge and dusts the first few sheets of metal making up the surface of his tenuous lifeline._

_Poe does not remember how he got here._

_His heart is heaving. Was he running? Sweat suddenly drips down the side of his face and the back of his neck. He is burning as though he's sprinted a mile, even though mere seconds ago it felt as though he were about to freeze to death._

_His name echoes across the hard surfaces of this strange world again._

_Poe looks back to the damaged side of the bridge and sees Finn and Rey staring at him in utter horror._

_He starts. Were they there a moment ago? He can't remember them if they were. Is he going mad?_

_Time seems to be moving strangely. Poe can see Finn and Rey's mouths opening, forming words presumably directed at him. But he cannot hear them straight away. Instead they take forever to reach him, fuzzy and distorted – indistinguishable noises by the time they do. In another situation, the strange slow motion effect might be amusing._

_Poe's never felt less like laughing._

\---

Rey is sick to her stomach, the weight of the dark side of the Force pressing on her chest. It reminds her of the few hours she spent in captivity after the battle with the First Order on Takodana. Memories stir of the power that Knight of Ren tried to bring to bear on her mind. The miraculous sensation of strength she experienced when she understood he could be pushed back- Rey still doesn’t have words for that.

But she was gifted with this strange power, instinctively able to turn it to defence. Whoever is bearing the force of this will now almost certainly does not have that ability.

The corridors stretch endlessly ahead. It could be her imagination, but Rey thinks the closer she moves to the centre, the duller the emergency lighting along the hallway becomes. Murky and confined, the world literally shudders. The darkness thickens and Rey stumbles with a half-stifled cry.

She needs to clear her mind, to draw on the strength of the Force. Rey cannot explain why, but she is filled with a terrible sensation that time is running out.

\---

_As if on request, the image of his friends and their cries synchronise. Finn clutches at Rey's right arm; his face is twisted with horror. Poe doesn't know Rey that well yet, but he associates a feeling of power with her. She doesn't look all that powerful now. The two appear to be fighting against some sort of invisible barrier and the debris littering the bridge builds in front of their feet, mutating into an obstacle course that cannot be navigated._

_"Poe," Rey pleads with him, "Poe, you need to come back. We need you here."_

_Poe doesn't understand why she can't just use the Force – he needs rescuing, so that's legitimate, right?_

_It's Finn speaking now, "Poe – you gotta- just come back across the bridge. Please. I can't get to you this time."_

_Their begging only elicits confusion. What are they so afraid of? What's stopping them just walking out to meet up with him? The immediacy of the raging storm recedes a little as he contemplates how stupid this situation is._

_"They are calling because they seek to protect you. From me."_

_Tension grips Poe's shoulders. He knows he will need to turn around, but for the moment he focuses on the unpleasant sensation of heavy raindrops trickling under the collar of his jacket. His clothes are soaked, chaffing unpleasantly against his skin. A command echoes through his mind, ordering him to face the new speaker. Reluctantly Poe obeys._

_He stares up at the tall, looming figure. Lightning streaks across the sky, momentarily illuminating pale skin. Poe hasn't seen Ben Solo in a long time._

_There is no time to analyse how he's so sure it's him, how he's so sure Ben was the one to torture him in person so many months ago. Poe is surprised he didn't realise then, but everything's so easy to see with the benefit of hindsight._

_"Don't you think it's ridiculous they believe you need protecting? They fear I'm going to hurt you. But you know that's not right, don’t you, Poe?"_

_Ben's gotten really tall. He literally dwarfs Poe now and that's even standing a few metres away, close to the edge of the bridge that is still stable. Emotions war across Poe's mind. The presence of his tormentor terrifies him. Honestly, Poe does not want to go through the pain of having his thoughts invaded again. He hates the memories of helplessness, of failure Ben brings back._

_But on the other hand, Ben's words make a lot of sense. He feels very familiar, as though they've spent long hours in deep conversation together, seen parts of each other no one else could hope to understand. Plus, he's General Organa's and Han Solo's son, right? Somewhere there must be good in him. Perhaps he really will help._

_"That's right, Poe. Just come to me. Take my hand and I'll make all that hurt, all your pain disappear." Ben's voice is so soft and familiar. He’s barely whispering, but Poe can hear every syllable crystal clear. With his back turned to them, Finn and Rey's desperate faces become a distant memory. A hand gloved in black leather stretches out towards Poe. It's only a few steps – much easier to go to Ben than risk heading back to the bit of the bridge that's broken._

_He takes an unsteady step forward, his dark boots slipping on the surface slick with rain._

_"Poe! No!" Rey's voice is a hoarse scream of frustration. The desperation of it takes Poe by surprise. He hesitates, half turning back._

_Behind him, the shade that both is and is not Ben Solo growls, "You will come to me."_

_It's a powerful command; Poe's body starts to obey before his mind truly catches up. In another life, Poe thinks he might have had the strength to resist. On this bridge, in this moment, Poe can't stop himself from taking another pace and pace. The bridge wobbles violently, but the pilot hardly heeds it. He is staring in silent wonder at Ben's face, grateful that it is freed from that horrible mask. With each step closer, the other man sends a wave of encouragement his way. Poe knows he is basking in this comfort, that it seems to blanket him in warmth even as everything else in this narrow scene faces destruction._

_One more step and he is close enough to take the offered hand. Poe's rich brown eyes drift upwards to gaze into Ben's face. The expression he encounters is carefully neutral. There is no recognition, little sign of the promised compassion. "Take my hand, Poe," Ben instructs, his tone chiding. Poe fixes him with another long, weary glance before raising his own arm up._

_The moment their fingers entwine Ben takes the chance to jerk the smaller man close. He slips his other arm around Poe's waist and it is the momentary intimacy of predator and prey, before the jaws snap shut, the fangs extend, the muscles contract. He draws him so that he is pressed against the strong form of his torturer. Over his shoulder, Poe catches a hint of the smirk thrown at Rey and Finn. Ben is mocking them._

_He's made the wrong choice._

_It's too late, but Poe tries to stumble back anyway. He presses his free hand against Ben's chest, but the man is immovable. The arm around him tightens, squeezing now at the bottom of his ribs. Air escapes his lungs and Poe knows he's having trouble drawing in an adequate replacement supply._

_"Look at me." Whether the command is in his head or spoken aloud, Poe isn't sure. All he knows is that he wants desperately to refuse. Instead his chin jerks upwards and he stares into the blackness of Ben's pupils. Once so bright and familiar, they now glimmer with a strange obsidian quality. He gazes into them and the strangest sensation blossoms, as though he has tipped head first over the side of this ridiculous bridge, as though he is falling and there is nothing to break his fall._

_"It is most accommodating of you to embrace your own destruction so willingly." The words don't make sense for a second, then Ben starts to show Poe the fate planned from him._

_Fear unlike anything he's ever known grips his soul. Poe struggles properly now, fighting against the metres of  cloth that make up Ben's- No. This isn't Ben. This isn't the gangly, awkward teenager Poe dimly remembers ambling after his parents at ceremonial events, the vessel of their dreams for a new generation. This isn'_ _t the boy everybody spoke of with such pride and high hopes as he commenced his training with his uncle. This is a twisted perversion of that man. A strange composition of anger and bitterness and hate. He is monstrous. The title Kylo Ren is apt enough now._

_So Poe tries to wrench himself from Ren's grasp, but he finds his chin roughly turned again and he meets those jet black eyes for a second time._

_What he sees there causes a scream to tumble from his lips._

\---

In the seemingly endless corridors of the base, Rey feels like she is lost in a labyrinth. She is sure she's close to the epicentre of the disturbance now. The unease prickles across her skin like goose bumps. The trainee Jedi prepares to focus her mind, to push away the fear that prevents her from seeing clearly.

However, at that moment, a piercing wail ricochets across the walls.

The sound would have led her where she needed, but Rey no longer requires direction. She recognises that voice – hoarse as it is. She knows exactly who lies at the centre of this storm.

\---

_And once the scream starts, Poe cannot stop._

_He screams to release the terror gripping his heart. He screams and screams and-_

\---

"Poe!" Rey literally throws herself through the man's door, unwilling to even waste the seconds needed for it to open fully. Her feet are in a tangle beneath her, but nothing matters apart from saving her friend from whatever is hunting him, hurting him.

He is writhing on the bed, limbs twisting unnaturally and his face contorted with pain.

Another cry escapes from his throat. Rey can hear his heart beating frantically in her ears and she suddenly fears his body will not cope with the pressure of trying to fight off this onslaught.

Because there's no doubt Poe's fighting.

Without warning, he bolts upright. Rey is dimly aware of another body behind her, senses the warm, reassuring presence of Finn. Reaching back, she awkwardly pats his wrist to acknowledge his arrival. Poe's eyes are open; he is looking straight at them, but Rey know he's not really seeing they're there.

Poe, trembling with exertion, moves his head minutely side to side. Then he stares straight ahead, a haunting expression of fear passing across his tanned features. Gaze fixed on a point somewhere above their heads, Poe begs in a quiet, desperate voice, "Help me. _Please._ "

Then his eyes roll backwards and he collapses onto the sweat-stained covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely comments and the kudos/bookmarks - I've not published a fic for a very long time prior to this, so I've been extremely grateful. <3 Very nearly there now!
> 
> Lyrics at the start of the chapter from Never Seen No Devil by The Twilight Singers.


	8. Chapter Eight

_'Who is the betrayer?_  
_Who's the killer in the crowd?_  
_The one who creeps in corridors_  
_And doesn't make a sound.'_

\---

It takes a moment for Rey to become aware of herself again. When she does, she realises she has pressed a hand over her mouth and that she is holding onto Finn's hand as though that is the only lifeline grounding her.

They split apart jerkily when more noises can be heard out in the corridor. Luke, brown robes swirling around him, strides with General Organa not far behind. They are both ashen pale. Finn and Rey divide to allow Skywalker into the room. Poe's body is twitching, possibly lacking the strength to move as much as it did before. His breathing changes to a shallow rattle and Rey truly begins to fear for his life.

Kneeling by Poe's bed, Luke frowns and mutters quietly to himself. He reaches out, placing his warm, calloused palm on Poe's forehead. The skin there is clammy to the touch. Glancing up at Rey, he gestures for her to take a place on the other side of the bed. "Follow me," he instructs gently, "stay strong and remember all that you have learnt. I do not know what we will face on the other side."

She nods, laying her hand on top of her Master’s and closing her eyes. Rey releases herself gently from worldly emotions, laying aside the worry and the panic and asking the Force to guide her where she needs to go. Like floating down a river with a strong current, she follows and gives herself to the dark.

\---

_"I am surprised to see you, old man."_

_Rey frowns, trying to piece together the scene around her. She is aware that Master Luke is just ahead, that they are both standing on some sort of rickety bridge. And that it is raining. Hard. It plasters her long brown hair to her forehead, but it also offers some cool relief. She takes a breath and looks ahead to who is speaking._

_The unmistakeable figure of Kylo Ren – the man she fought with, could perhaps even have killed – causes her to stifle a gasp. He shouldn't be here. He must be entire star systems away. Training in his own dark arts, not preying upon the vulnerable. Her mouth twists into a frown._

_"You're not welcome here," Luke replies evenly, refusing to be goaded by such pitiful taunts._

_"Is this the moment where you dramatically announce you'll make me leave if I refuse to go? I've grown somewhat… attached to the pilot's mind. We've spent many-" he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, "diverting hours together." The way he rolls the syllables suddenly makes Rey feel unclean. It hurts to her very core to think of all the private memories Ren must have been able to strip from Poe whilst he's been defenceless. It hurts to think of how he might have used them in retaliation._

_"I will break your hold on the Commander and help him learn how to protect against future invasions."_

_Ren widens his stance and, as if he's been there from the beginning, Rey becomes aware of Poe's limp form. He is resting against Kylo's body, mostly hidden in the swathes of black fabric making up the man's robes. Poe's head, however, is clearly visible. It is almost tucked in under Ren's chin, sodden hair curling against the his pale neck. With one hand wrapped around Poe's waist, Ren raises the other to his chin and tilts it upwards to an unnatural angle. The exposure of his neck makes Poe look even more vulnerable, but his expression remains slack despite the humiliation._

_"The question is, old man, can you teach him fast enough?"_

_Rey bristles, desperate to do something more active- to take Poe out of the man's grip. Luke holds up an arm and she is aware of his voice in her head, encouraging calm and reminding her that Ren is baiting them._

_"I'm afraid a command has been issued to procure him. I think you'll find he won't make such a lucky escape a second time around. I'll be addressing his fate personally. And permanently."_

_That's really all it takes. Rey is too new to this, too inexperienced in watching people she damned well cares about being threatened. "You're a coward," she snarls. "Too afraid to face those who can match your power? Instead you've been tormenting someone who can't protect themselves from you." It's a satisfaction that Ren's lips tighten when he sees her, when he's reminded of his failure and weakness back in the snow and the pines. He is longing to face her again – and Skywalker. He'll show them both how drastically they underestimate him, how far he's progressed through the latter stages of his training._

_"It's time to let him go." Rey looks up, realising that the heavy rain has stopped. In fact, the brooding clouds above them have reduced to a lighter grey. In the real world it would bring that glimmer of hope that a great storm is passing. She looks sharply across at her Master and understands that he must be working to release Ren's hold on Poe's mind. Incrementally the sky grows brighter and brighter and Kylo's dark figure seems more and more implausible. He is out of place in the sunshine, in the light._

_He growls in response, draws Poe's smaller figure to him more tightly, an implicit warning not to come closer. "I strongly hope your teaching efforts are more successful this time around. Your pupil is not going to survive long otherwise. And he does seem to have such a knack for making people care for him. Just think of the grief his loss might unleash."_

_"The success in learning depends as much on the pupil as the teacher, Ben. I assume your Master instructed you to give us such a generous warning of your intentions towards Commander Dameron. An unusual change in his behaviour."_

_It is a mark of how far he's come in is training. Where once the mention of his old name, his heritage would send the blood raging through his body, now Kylo raises an eyebrow. Does Skywalker really think that will move him? That pointing blame on both sides is beneficial? The sky above is almost a pale blue and Kylo knows his hold on the pilot's mind is being unpicked. It is only a matter of time before the link between them is completely broken. And Skywalker is right. His Master will not be pleased at this new evidence of weakness._

_On the other hand, he can confirm what they've both felt – the tremor in the Force potentially suggesting the old man was shaking himself out of retirement._

_He will cut his losses now. The pilot will be vulnerable to his influence for a long time to come; they won't be able to protect him forever. "Teach him as you will. I've shown him his fate already and he will walk to it willingly when I call. But first, let us see if you can even wake him up." With that, Kylo presses a gloved hand against Poe's temple. Rey feels a brief rush of power before the figure disappears completely. Poe's unconscious form tumbles to the ground, causing Rey to dash forwards in a race to catch him._

_Before they hit the ground, however, they are both-_

\---

Rey is lurching backwards, her hand falling from Poe's head. Grateful for the familiar, she looks across at Master Luke. Finn and General Organa are waiting patiently as far away from the bed as possible. The room is not designed for this many and it feels crowded.

Poe rests more easily, his chest rising and falling at a steady rate.

Dragging a hand through his beard, Luke stands wearily. "Kylo Ren," he offers by way of a short explanation. "Rey and I will need to make sure his hold is completely broken. He's had some time to work. I am not sure how far the damage goes."

Leia swallows, desperately trying to control a fresh wave of guilt rolling over her. She wants to ask: How could they all have missed this? How could she not have sensed something was wrong? But they all know the answer. Each of them have been wrapped up in their own struggles - with new power, injuries, grief.  
  
And Poe? Poe wouldn't have wanted to impose further trouble on anyone if he could help it. Damn Poe and his ability to hide everything behind a blinding smile. She nods tersely, but cannot bring herself to speak at the moment. Everything hurts too much.

"Master Luke, Poe will wake up?"

Fixing Rey with a reassuring smile, Luke nods, "He will wake. Ren was too far away to do anything permanent. It's a ploy to distract us from following him, buying him time." He almost manages to sound completely confident.

One by one, their eyes return to Poe.

\---

_Poe drifts in darkness, afloat on shadows. He is alone, but with no conception of loneliness._

_It is warm and silent. He ebbs and flows on an unseen tide._

_He forgets friend and foe, the prospect of destruction or rescue._

_Above and below him the blackness of night, without the memory of stars or the relief of daybreak._

_All he knows is exhaustion, but he drifts with the dim sensation that he is waiting for something._

_Yes, it is warm and silent and he drifts in the dark and waits._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me until the end and for all the encouragement on the way through! I wanted to just complete the story and will then go through and tidy up some little errors that I've noticed.
> 
> I know the pairing aspect of this wasn't too strong in the end, but I deliberately wanted to write something quite open to interpretation and ambiguous, including the ending. Poor Poe. ;_;
> 
> Lyrics from the start of this final chapter from Heavy In Your Arms by Florence + The Machine


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